Ethereal Dances
by Semblance of Sanity
Summary: 'And all my days are trances,/ And all my nightly dreams/ Are where thy dark eye glances,/ And where thy footstep gleams—/ In what ethereal dances,/ By what eternal streams.' Edgar Allan Poe, "The Assignation." :: 50 titles, 50 drabbles :: written for the Titles Set Boot Camp.
1. The Path in the Stars

**BlaiseLuna. Also written for the Valentine Drabble Collection Competition. **

* * *

"I don't think the professors want us out here."

Blaise squeezed Luna's hand tighter, as if afraid she'd walk away without another word. "How else do they expect us to watch the stars?"

"I believe that is what the Astronomy Tower is for," Luna told him thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but this way the view is unrestricted," Blaise insisted. "Here, help me with the blanket."

She complied, looking at the blanket thoughtfully, and then blinked up at the stars. Blaise plopped down on the blanket, lying on his back and staring up at the beautiful girl who was not currently curled up by his side.

"Luna." She blinked at him, and he patted the space beside him. She smiled and sank down, resting her head on his stomach.

The silence stretched between them comfortably, and neither of them reached for their textbooks.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star," she mumbled. "How I wonder what you are." He chuckled a little, low and deep, hardly surprised. She smiled as her head vibrated with his vocal chords.

"Very poetic," he commented.

"It's a Muggle nursery rhyme," she told him.

"Of course it is."

"Hmm. If you connect the dots, they create Howgarts," Luna commented happily. "Oh, look! There's us, walking up the path!" She pointed. Blaise squinted and tilted his head until his neck hurt, but he couldn't see it.

Luna could find the paths in the stars, because he was perfectly content to lay there with his fingers tangled in her hair.

"Should we start?" she asked after a bit of silence.

"Nah, girl, we need to appreciate the stars first," he told her.

She had taken the time to do just that when she was eight, but she thought maybe she wouldn't mind doing it again. As long as Blaise was so eager to, anyway.


	2. Wet Nose

**Hogsmeade day with Wolfstar! Written for the Titles Set Boot Camp: 'Wet Nose,' and the SAT/ACT Vocabulary Challenge: 'incite (v.) ****_arouse to action.'_**

* * *

"Books? Really, Moony?" Sirius exclaimed incredulously. "Today is our day to be free and let our hair down and -"

"You do that everyday," Remus pointed out.

"- and run naked through the streets," Sirius continued as if he hadn't heard Remus.

Remus looked up worriedly. "Please tell me you aren't going to -"

"You are missing the point, Moony!" Sirius frowned, looking upset. "We are supposed to have fun!"

Remus sighed. "This is fun to me."

"Ack. You're a hopeless case. I'm going to The Three Broomsticks with the _fun_ people," Sirius told him, wrinkling his nose.

Remus snorted and settled against a nice oak tree, a small creek by his feet and _Hogwarts: A History_ open on his lap. "You do that."

.

No more than an hour later, loud barking interrupted the peaceful calm. A wet nose was shoved into his neck and a wet tongue lapped at his clavicle. "Sirius!"

Muddy paws scraped against his sternum, and he shoved his friend off. "Sirius -" the dog barked in protest. "- Okay, _Padfoot_, you're getting the book wet!"

Padfoot replied by helpfully nudging the book onto the grass - and out of harm's way. "Well, your nose is wet, too, you know!"

Padfoot whined and tugged at Remus' sleeve with his teeth.

"No! I'm not going to play!" Remus scolded, yanking his arm away. Padfoot regarded him with sad eyes, whimpering. Remus rolled his eyes. "You know that doesn't work on me -" Padfoot tugged at the hem of Remus' jeans. "No - Sirius, stop! Stop trying to incite me!"

Padfoot tilted his head, and Remus swore the bloody dog was smiling. He jumped up suddenly, hitting Remus square in the chest and knocking him onto his back - and then curled up on his chest. Padfoot transformed back into Sirius, who frowned down at Remus before settling more comfortably on his chest.

"I cannot _believe_ you used the word _incite,_" he snickered. Remus squirmed.

"Sirius! Get _off!_"

"_Sirius! Get off!_" Sirius mocked. Remus huffed.

"Sirius, come on -"

"Moony," Sirius drawled, pushing at Remus' shoulder. "Lay still. You're ruining my relaxation."

"But you're cutting off my windpipe!"

"Shh."


	3. Whatever You Say

_a/n: LuciusLockhart. Also written for the Valentines Drabble Collection Challenge with the prompt 'impatient.'_

* * *

"You're late," a harsh voice snapped the second Gilderoy stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. He rolled his eyes as he turned to the voice.

"No, you are early."

Lucius frowned. "Let's just get on with this. Mum looked suspicious." Gilderoy frowned back, but followed Lucius into Diagon Alley. They weaved between the crowds, avoiding each other's eyes purposefully as they maintained a firm yard between them at all times.

Distracted by a particularly nice set of robes in a store window, Gilderoy lost sight of Lucius' blonde hair, and spun around in a circle frantically. An arm darted out and yanked him from the street, and he found himself blinking up at annoyed gray eyes. Lucius released him and strode into Knockturn Alley without a backward glance. Frowning suspiciously at the patrons lurking on the dark street, Gilderoy rushed to follow him.

Lucius was already at the counter, hissing at the store owner, and he glared as Gilderoy approached.

Gilderoy peered down at the objects on the counter curiously, but Lucius covered them with his hand, and had the grace to finally look nervous.

He cleared his throat, and the action was so unlike him that Gilderoy _had_ to laugh. "Just show me already."

Lucius did some more frowning, and the store keeper bustled about loudly behind the counter. "These are the ones that I want, Gilderoy, and I - I just -"

"It's fine, Lucius. Whatever you want," Gilderoy assured him.

"That's not what I meant! Its a collaborative decision - I just want these ones!" Lucius insisted. Gilderoy raised his eyebrow and gestured for Lucius to move his hand. He heaved a long-suffering sigh as he complied.

The rings were silver snakes entwined, with blue jeweled eyes, and they were beautiful.

"Yes," Gilderoy said immediately.

"Whatever you say," Lucius replied and kissed him as the store owner dropped pens across the floor.

* * *

_Special thanks to my friend Jordan for doing absolutely nothing to help my writing process and distracting me with pointless conversation. :)_


	4. Pretty Locket

_Also written for the Valentine Drabble Collection Challenge - RogerKatie, prompt: chocolate. _

* * *

"Katie?"

Her head snapped up from the book on her lap, and she looked around. A man was walking towards her, enthusiasm and uncertainty warring on his face. "Katie Bell?" he repeated and oh, she knew his face...

"Roger Davies?" She jumped up and hugged him, ignoring the outstretched hand. It didn't matter that they hardly knew each other, even in school. The war had demanded unity, and by God, she would hug them all if given the chance. The Knight Bus turned sharply and they were flung four beds over in each other's arms. They laughed as they straightened themselves up.

"Wow, it's so good to see an old Hogwarts face!" he exclaimed, grasping her shoulder again. She didn't mind. "How long's it been?"

"Too long. I heard about your wife, Roger, I'm so sorry."

"Ah, yes. Thank you. It's been -"

"Daddy?" Wide brown eyes peeked at Katie from behind Roger.

"Oh, right! Sorry, love! Katie, this is my daughter, Addison. Addie, honey, this is Daddy's friend Katie, from school," Roger introduced, putting his arm around the tiny child beside him. Addie blinked at Katie, and her heart melted like those chocolate eyes she gazed into. The child couldn't be more than 4 years old.

"Hi, Addison," Katie smiled. Addie stared at her for a while, before crawling over Roger's lap to sit in front of her.

"Daddy bought me a locket today. At a muggle shop. It's a _locket_, look!" she pulled it out from where it had been hiding underneath her shirt. The chain was long and silver, and Addie proudly held it out for Katie.

Katie inhaled sharply and jerked away. Addie blinked, looking hurt.

"Don't you like it?"

"It's beautiful, honey." And it was. "I just - I have a thing against necklaces," Katie tried to explain sheepishly.

Roger's eyes widened comically with understanding, and he grabbed Addie's wrist. "Oh, of course! I'm so sorry, Katie, I completely forgot -"

She laughed, quiet and reminiscent of Salvation Army bells, and touched his arm gently. "It's quite alright - I wouldn't expect you to remember a silly thing like that. It's no big deal, really. Me and necklaces just don't get along."

Addie frowned again. "It's a locket."

"It's a very pretty locket," Katie amended.

"Oi! Davies! Come on, then; it's your stop!" Stan shouted. Roger smiled sheepishly as he picked up their stuff.

"We - we should get together for tea. Catch up," he stuttered, ignoring as Addie tugged on his Muggle jeans impatiently.

"Absolutely! Oh, um -" Katie fumbled about in her bag. "Here's my card. Call me?" Oh, how she felt like a teenager again.

Roger smiled. "Absolutely."


	5. The Youth of Today

_Also written for the Valetines Drabble: PercyLavender, 'seashells,' and for the Gemstone Competition under '__Ruby.'_

* * *

Waking up for the first time was the worst of it, probably. Staring at a white ceiling, in a state of inexplicable pain, unable to move even her head. A loud beeping sound interrupted the oppressive silence, and then oppressive _noise_ assaulted her ears and she screamed and screamed until firm hands soothed her.

A doctor came and talked to her in a scratchy, nasally voice about her memories, about what had happened. She had fallen off a balcony in a duel with a Death Eater during what they were calling 'The Battle of Hogwarts.' She had four crushed vertebra, two werewolf bites, and other various injuries, so they had put her in a state of paralysis until her bones could heal and her infections could be treated and/or cured, so no, Ms. Brown, you cannot move. She started screaming again and he left.

Time passed in slow, immeasurable waves, and she spent the time in uncertainty and worry. Mum came and hung a seashell wind chime above her bed, and she passed the days, hours, minutes with trying to make them move without her wand. The music it finally played was sweet and calming, but it was cut off by the sound of her curtains opening. Something was dragged, and then she heard a loud thump. "Brown," a voice acknowledged, and she huffed in exasperation at the silence that followed.

"Have some courtesy and tell the paralyzed chick who you are!" she snapped.

"Oh. Uh, Percy. Percy Weasley," a surprised voice told her. Her ex-flame's older brother. What the hell? "My bed's right next to yours. Wanna hear all the dead?" And he started reading. His voice cracked on "Fred Weasley," but he didn't talk about it so neither did she. She wondered how Ron was doing, and was surprised to find she held no animosity towards him, only worry. Percy told her what had happened after she went into her coma. He answered all her questions. He held her hand quietly while she cried.

A nurse came and shooed him back to his bed, and the lights shut off.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep. _

"Percy?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

He cried, late that night when no one was supposed to be awake, and she never mentioned it. She cried too.


	6. Magic Spells

_Kindergarten!AU - In which Hogwarts is a game made up by our favorite tiny heroes!_

_Also for the AU challenge!_

* * *

The bell rang, but no one seemed to hear it.

"Time to come in!" she shouted, but the wind drowned her out.

Minerva sighed and pulled her jacket tighter as she made the long walk to the field, stopping just outside the obvious border of rocks. The class was running about with their arms spread like they were playing airplane. Neville fell over, and the class laughed. Draco wrenched something from poor Neville's pocket and through it across the field.

Harry shouted at him, and ran to go get it. It turned into a race, complete with opposing cheers. She laughed as they all stared waving sticks around.

"Recess is over!" she shouted above the wind. "Inside now! Come on! _Draco_, honestly! Stop poking Neville with that stick! No, everyone has to leave their sticks outside!"

"But Ms. Minnie -"

"Please -"

"We need them -"

She shook her head at all the whining. Sticks in the classroom just wouldn't do. Hermione tugged on her pants. "Can't we just leave them outside the door? We'll lose them if we put them in the grass!"

Minerva sighed again. "Fine, but don't leave them in front of the door where everyone will trip."

The children sprinted off towards the school. Neville sniffed by her side, and she picked him up even though he was getting far too heavy for her bad back. "What's wrong, dear?"

"I can't do any of the spells," he cried into her shoulder.

"You've been doing very well in spelling, Neville," she assured him.

"No, the _spells_. F'itwick teaches them, and I can't do them!"

"Mr. Flitwick," she corrected absently, and then looked around for the teacher in question. "What do you mean, he's been teaching you spells? Magic spells? Like, witchcraft? At an elementary school?!" Neville blinked at her. She had forgotten whom she was talking to.

Someone else tugged on her pants. "It's a game," Luna told her with a smile. "They have lots of fun. I get to make up the magic animals."

"The - the what?"

"Thestrals you can only see when someone dies in front of you, so only I can see them. They like meat. And then there's Buckbeak," Luna explained.

"He's scary," Neville chimed in.

"No, he ain't," Luna chided.

"Is too," Neville whispered in Minerva's ear, loudly.

Minerva sighed. These kids and their imaginations.


	7. The Klutz

_Written for Red, Blue, Green, and Purple in the Quelf Competition, CrabbeGoyle and 'homework' in Valentines (short version found in You Smiled), and Onyx in the Gemstone Competition. Also written for Titles Set Boot, obviously._

* * *

It's stupid, Crabbe thinks. What is the point of homework anyway? It doesn't _do_ anything. The teachers just read it and tell him if he's right. If they already know the answers, why do they need him to tell them what they are?

"- this whole time - that's what I heard." Giggles and annoying _girl_ voices filled the Common Room, and he huffed as he tried to sit up to yell at them.

"I just can't believe Goyle's _gay_!" someone said, and he fell back into the cushions with a gasp that was, thankfully, covered by more giggles.

"Well, I don't believe it. It's just a rumor," a haughty voice sniffed, and Crabbe readily agreed. Goyle would have told him. Right?

"So you are saying that _I_ started the rumor?" a voice that could only be Pansy's drawled. "He told me himself, _Millicent_."

"Yes, and you've always been completely honest, _Pansy._" Tense silence followed, and then -

"Has he really been in love with him this whole time, Pans?" And Crabbe was overwhelmed with the urge to know who_._

"Oh, no. Can you imagine being in love with him First Year?" More giggles. "He didn't know. _I_ think it was in Third Year."

"Is he going to tell him?" someone else wanted to know.

"God, no. Can you imagine how that conversation would go? 'Hey, Crabbe, buddy, my best friend,'" Pansy started in what was known as her 'mocking' tone, and Crabbe felt his mind freeze mid-reaction. "'I'm gay, and oh, yeah. I've been in love with you for about 4 years. Wanna snog?' Honestly, Tracey."

"Poor Goyle. Imagine being in love with _Crabbe_."

"He's not even hot," another voice agreed.

"Ah, but what he lacks in looks, personality, gracefulness, and mental acuity," Blaise chimed in, and Crabbe wondered absently where he had come from. "He makes up in the size of his stomach."

"Poor Goyle?!" Crabbe shouted, jumping up in a delay reaction as his mind finally caught up.

"I rest my case," Blaise smiled, but then looked stricken. "Crabbe -"

"Goyle's in love with me?! And none of you lot thought to tell me?!" Everyone gaped at him; Pansy sighed. "He - We - I - what am I supposed to do now?"

"That's why no one told you."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" he shouted again, and Goyle walked through the door of the Common Room, laughing. He stopped upon seeing Crabbe's face, and Draco ran into him with an _umph._

_"Goyle!"_

"What's wrong?" Goyle asked, rushing over to Crabbe's side. "What happened?" He glared at Pansy and Blaise, reaching for his wand.

"You - I -" Crabbe stuttered, and he could feel his face getting redder and redder as he gaped at his once best friend. "I can't believe you!" he finally shouted, and ran to his dormitory.

Goyle blinked at his retreating back. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"I'm not the one who fell in love with him," Pansy sniffed, and the Slytherins scattered.

_Oh -_

* * *

"Crabbe, come on. Let me in."

"No."

Goyle sighed. "It's been an hour. We have to talk about it."

"I don't want to talk to you!" Crabbe shouted back.

"Why not?"

Crabbe paused; searching for an answer, no doubt. "Be - Because! I just don't! You're gay!"

Goyle rolled his eyes and leaned his head back on the door. "Oh, and you're suddenly homophobic?"

"What? No!"

"Then we have to talk. It'll be awkward if we don't, you know that." Goyle reasoned, and suddenly felt proud of himself. There was another long pause, and then -

"FINE! But you can't come in!"

Goyle smirked. "Fine. You can -"

"_Gay_, Goyle?!" Crabbe shouted. "Gay and you never told me! How - how - could you?!"

Goyle sighed. "I don't know. I just didn't want things to be awkward between us."

"But - all those girls that you -"

"I like girls too," Goyle told him quickly. "I wasn't lying about that."

"But - in love with - with _me_?! Why?"

"I have no idea."

There was another long pause, and he tumbled backwards into the room as the door was thrown open. Crabbe blinked down at him, and sat by Goyle's head with a thump. Goyle sat up.

"I - I don't know what to think," Crabbe admitted after a long period of silence. "I don't know what to do."

"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know."

They sat in silence for a long time. "So what now?" Goyle asked, tentatively. Crabbe bit his lip.

"Race you to dinner?"

"Oh, you're on."

.

Crabbe fell down the stairs.

* * *

_Word count: 771_


	8. Once Upon a Time

_Ron and Hermione on reading Muggle fairy tales to unborn babies._

* * *

"I just don't see the purpose," Ron protested. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I just explained it!"

"Well, explain it better! It doesn't make any sense," Ron insisted, waving his arms about. "She can't hear you!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Actually, she can. It's been proven. This will help her to recognize our voices."

"But she can't understand anything we are saying! It just sounds like gibberish! Ugh-bub-blah-gah-do-da!"

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him, forcing him to wonder when he had married a brunette version of his mother. "Don't you want your daughter to know your voice?!" she demanded.

He sighed. "'Course I do, 'Mione," he told her, rubbing her arms soothingly. "We can read if you want to, okay? See? I'm sitting!" He gestured to the spot beside him on the couch, and she curled up against his side. "What are we reading then?"

"Cinderella." She opened a large book and started flipping through it. "It's a Muggle fairy tale."

"Alright then! Don't worry, little baby. Daddy's never heard of ol' Cindy either," Ron assured Hermione's stomach. Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"Shush," she commanded.

"I am shushing."

Hermione snorted. "Alright. 'Once upon a time, there lived an ''"

"Wait a minute. 'Once upon a time?' What is that? What does that even bloody mean?" Ron interrupted, turning to Hermione with a confused look.

Hermione sputtered. "It means - I don't know! They just start like that! It means once upon a bloody time! Now _shush_!"

"Weird Muggle stories..." Ron muttered. Hermione huffed, and turned back to the book.

"'Once upon a time, there lived an unhappy young girl. Her mother was dead -'"

"Her mother is dead? Already? What kind of twisted -"

"Ronald!" Hermione shouted. "Shut up! Do _you_ want to read the story? I didn't think so!"

Ron held his hand up in surrender and settled back against the couch. Hermione glared at him for a long while before leaning against him once more. "'Her mother was dead and her father had married a widow with two daughters. Her stepmother didn't like her one little bit.'"

Ron made a disproving sound, but Hermione resolved to ignore him. "'All her kind thoughts and loving touches were for her own daughters. Nothing was too good for them - dresses, shoes, delicious food, soft beds, and every home comfort. But, for the poor unhappy girl, there was nothing at all. No dresses, only her stepsisters' hand-me-downs. No lovely dishes, nothing but scraps. No rest and no comfort. She had to work hard all day.'"

Ron huffed, but Hermione continued. "'Only when evening came was she allowed to sit for a while by the fire, near the cinders. That's why everybody called her Cinderella.'"

"Okay, that's it! That's a _terrible_ story! What is it going to teach our daughter about mothers and sisters and useless fathers who do nothing?! Come on, baby, we are leaving," he told Hermione's stomach. He picked his wife up bridal style, and carried her from the room.

"Ron! Ronald! Put me down!" Hermione protested.

"Once upon a time," he started, ignoring his wife and talking to her stomach once more. "There was a man who loved his wife very much." Hermione snorted. "Unfortunately, she had absolutely no story-telling abilities. So what was he to do?"

"Kidnap her," Hermione muttered, but she was ignored.

"This, babygirl, is an Important Life Lesson that you need to learn as soon as possible. The best way to distract a pregnant woman is to bring her to the kitchen," Ron instructed, depositing his wife on top of the kitchen counter.

"Oh, yes. That's obviously the most important lesson in life," Hermione huffed.

"Pie?" Ron suggested.

"Yes, please."

* * *

_Be a lovely and leave a review? :)_


	9. Fish in the Sea

_Pansy on cheating fiances and lonely Valentine's._

* * *

The bar was loud and depressing, full of drunk nobodies in very little clothing, ready to sell their soul for someone to hold them through the night. Merlin, how she hated Valentines Day.

These men were all wild, abrasive, and drop-dead sexy - normally her type, but tonight, all she could think about was how they weren't David.

He was smart, gorgeous, and he had a full set of shiny white teeth, which is always a bonus. He gave her jewelry on every major (and minor) occasion, listened to her rant about work, and let her pick what movie they watched. She really thought he'd loved her. Who knows, maybe he did - at least at first. He certainly didn't now.

"You're breaking up with me the day before Valentines Day?" he'd shouted in her face. "Who does that?"

"You cheated on me with my _boss_! Who does_ that_?!" she'd shouted right back.

She hadn't cried, but Blaise had hugged her anyway, tucking her head under his chin and telling her how beautiful and wonderful she was. "There are other fish in the sea, honey."

She snorted at the memory, raising her whiskey to her lips as she frowned at the writhing mass on the dancefloor. They were all so disgustingly desperate. _Yes,_ she told Blaise - telepathically, of course. _And they are all peaches._

If these were the fish in the sea, she would move to the damn ocean.


	10. Tomorrow It Begins

**Also for the Charcter Challenge: Ludo Bagman and Viktor Krum. For the Interesting Words Challenge, novaturient - desiring or seeking powerful change in one's life, behavior, or situation.**

**Word Count: 766**

_Viktor Krum on gambling perverts and kid competitors. _

* * *

He had looked so scared, I remembered later, after my anger had cooled down. He was just a kid, after all.

A dangerous competition, and he was too young to legally participate. It might have been for a joke, or perhaps one of the older students - but Harry didn't want to compete. Anyone could see that - well, anyone who wasn't angry at him.

His school hated him, the cheating jerk-face. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived For Fame. But they were wrong.

.

_Harry Potter, The Boy Who Cried in the Rain, Late At Night When He Thought Everyone Was Asleep._

_Harry Potter, The Boy Who Suffered Through Insults Thrown By His Own Friends._

_Harry Potter, The Boy Who -_

.

Harry was against the wall, Ludo Bagman towering over him. Harry frowned, Ludo waved his hands as he talked excitedly. Harry shook his head, Bagman put a hand on his shoulder and leaned closer, his mouth moving faster. I moved forward, staying in the shadows and walking as lightly as I could.

Harry shook his head again and pushed away from Bagman, looking very determined.

"Harry? Harry!" Bagman called after him, but Harry didn't turn around.

"Harry." I stepped out of the shadows, and Harry jumped.

"Krum," he acknowledged, looking back down the corridor nervously. "What are you doing here? Don't you sleep in the pirate ship?"

"I like the castle," I told him, truthfully.

"Oh." He looked around, as if noticing the school for the first time.

"What did Bagman want?"

Harry's head snapped back up to me. Fear, anger in his eyes. "Nothing."

"Harry -"

"Stop spying on me, Krum," he glared. "I'm not going to win anyway. Go spy on Cedric!"

"Harry -"

.

_Harry Potter, Full Of Anger._

_Harry Potter, Cornered By The Head Of Sports and Games._

_Harry Potter, The Dragon Hatching From The Fragile Egg._

.

Bagman was talking to him again, outside this time, crowding Harry's personal space. No, I wasn't worried. From what little I'd seen, Harry could take care of himself.

I hid behind a tree.

"...just a few..."

"...I don't..."

"...practice..."

"No -"

"No one has to know," Bagman insisted, louder.

"No," Harry told him firmly. I shuffled closer. "I don't feel comfortable with that -"

He fell silent as a twig snapped under my foot.

"He - Hello?" Bagman called. There was a weighted pause.

"Please don't ask again," I heard Harry say, and two pairs of feet walked away.

.

_Harry Potter, The Boy With Excellent Hearing._

_Harry Potter, The Eternally Harassed. _

_Harry Potter, The Boy Who Said No._

_._

This is the third time. Enough is enough.

Harry looks up at me wearily as I approach, walking away as if he is determined not to talk to me. Ludo turns around, a large smile plastered to his face.

I grab the front of his robes and drag him into an empty corridor.

"Listen up, Bagman. Harry doesn't want to talk to you," I spit through my teeth. "So leave him alone."

Bagman sputters. "Mr. Potter has never indicated - friendly conversation, is all -"

"Like hell it is. Harry's not interested in what you are offering," I glare down at him, putting on my menacing face.

"I'm not offering him anything!" Bagman squeaks.

"Well, then, he's not interested in giving you anything!" I correct, growing impatient.

His look suddenly turns reptilian and he smirks up at me. "Just what do you think I want from Mr. Potter, Viktor?"

I frown, and uneasiness pools low in my abdomen. "Some perverted sex thing - I don't know! But stay away from Potter, you understand?" I put my menacing face back on.

Bagman chuckles - _chuckles_ - and I'm lost.

"And you are here to save him from - what? Losing his virginity? How sweet. Unfortunately -" he yanks my hand from his robes "- Mr. Potter is not in need of a white knight at this moment. You can go find another princess to save."

He scurries off as I am still soaking in his words. "I - I -" I sputter when I understand the connection. "I'm not in love with Harry Potter!" I insist, shouting at the empty air behind him.

_._

_Ludo Bagman, The Perverted Gambler._

_Viktor Krum, The Romantically Confused Quidditch Player._

_Harry Potter, The...Princess?_

_._

I wander, pondering Bagman's words. I'm not in love with Harry Potter. He's just a kid. He's just a scared kid.

I need to snog a girl.

The third challenge begins tomorrow.

I am not in love with The Boy Who Lived.

* * *

_I tried a new writing style. Review and let me know what you think?_


	11. Forevermore

_In which Voldemort reminisces in this space between nothing and wholeness._

* * *

He was powerful, once.

He was respected and feared, at the peak of his career as Conqueror of the World.

One task, _one task_: kill a _child_, and he couldn't do it.

The all-powerful Dark Lord, defeated by a _child._

_._

_It _would grow up without loving parents, like he had, and that was some comfort.

They were very similar, him and the boy.

The children of Muggle-loving purebloods and a _Muggle. _Half-bloods.

But _his_ parents had left him, and the boy's parents had _died_ for him - what made the child so special? What made Harry Potter better than him?

.

But he knew the answer. He was the child of forced love. His mother had ruined his chances before he was even conceived.

Marvolo should never have let her leave the house. Ogden should not have meddled. The Muggle had deserved it.

.

The world had spit in his face since before he had breathed, and he had only ever returned the favor.

And now it had made the last move, and he was forevermore condemned to drift with the breeze - a soul without a body, a being without life, left with his thoughts for all of eternity.

He had wished for immortality, and fate had a sense of humor.

.

* * *

_Review?_

_Also for the Quotes Challenge: "Humor is reason gone mad."― Groucho Marx. And for the Character Challenge with Harry, and Bob Ogden. _


	12. Subterfuge

_"If you've a story, make sure it's a whole one, with details close to hand. It's the difference between a good lie and getting caught."― Tamora Pierce, Trickster's Choice._

_For the Quotes Challenge._

* * *

The porch steps creaked and groaned as she tiptoed up them, swearing under her breath. She took her shoes off outside the door and brushed down her hair. With a deep breath, she turned the door handle slowly, and sighed in relief when the door didn't creak as it swung open. The house was silent, and she could hear her father snoring up in his room. Bellatrix smirked. This was too easy.

Shoes in the closet, book bag on the couch. She was humming under her breath when the light suddenly turned on. She whirled around, blinking against the assault on her eyes.

Narcissa stood in the living room, her arms crossed.

"Where were you?"

Bellatrix snorted. "Playing mother again, are we, Cissy?"

Narcissa frowned. "_Where were you?_" she repeated.

"I was at the library - _like I said_."

"You don't go to the library," Narcissa insisted.

Bellatrix yawned. "Leave me alone, Cissy. It's late. I'm tired."

She hopped up the stairs two at a time, and Narcissa was right on her heels.

"Why'd you go to the library?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "To get a _book_. That's the _point_ of the library."

"What book?" Narcissa asked, unyielding. Bellatrix tried to shut the bathroom door, but Narcissa stuck her foot in and shoved the door open.

"A _sex_ book," Bellatrix sneered. Narcissa looked appalled, but she seemed satisfied with the answer.

"Wait, why is your hair all messed up?

Bella huffed. "Because I fell asleep, okay? Piss off."

"I don't believe you, you know. You may have gone to the library at first, but you didn't stay there the whole time," Narcissa declared.

Bellatrix snorted. "And where was I then, Oh Wise One?" she sneered.

Narcissa held her chin up. "I think you got a booty call."

Bellatrix whipped around and grabbed the front of Narcissa's pajamas. "And what if I was? Are you going to run and tell Mummy?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes, and pushed Bellatrix away. "I'm not a snitch," she sneered.

"Yeah, but you are Mummy's pet," Bellatrix spat.

"And you're a slut," Narcissa declared calmly.

"Virgin," Bella shot back. "Go away, Cissy, unless you want to be flashed." She pulled her shirt over her head and Narcissa squeaked as she rushed from the room.

.

An owl came for her in the morning.

_Bella,_

_I enjoyed last night very much. _

_Come over again tonight._

_Yours,_

_Rodolphus Lestrange_

Bellatrix smirked and tossed the note in the fire.

"Mother, I'm going to sleep over at Alecto Carrow's house tonight, alright?"

* * *

_Review?_


End file.
